


Sigh No More

by kalisgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: interhouse_fest, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Fresh Start, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Humor, Ireland, Learning to trust, Post-Book(s), Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-26
Updated: 2011-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalisgirl/pseuds/kalisgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy's had her heart bruised one too many times, so she decides to move on with her life. But it's hard to move forward with the past staring you in the face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sigh No More

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Pansy, Seamus and the magical world of Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling and others. I just play here to amuse myself and others.
> 
> Written for Interhouse_fest 2011. When I saw this prompt, I couldn't resist, so big thanks to leigh for that. Thanks also to those supportive folk who convinced me that I could wrap the story up in three chapters. And finally, thank you thank you to my beta for jumping in on a moment's notice and being so good to me.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,  
Men were deceivers ever;  
One foot in sea, and one on shore,  
To one thing constant never.

Then sigh not so,  
But let them go,  
And be you blithe and bonny,  
Converting all your sounds of woe  
Into Hey nonny, nonny.

 

Much Ado About Nothing  
\- William Shakespeare

* * *

Pansy was vibrating with anger. She could practically feel her magic coiling and fizzing around her, ready to spark at the slightest provocation. It had been years, decades, since she'd performed accidental magic, but today her control was so thin that she was surprised that the windows of the shops she passed didn't burst from the force of her glare.

Her heels clicked violently against the cobbles of Diagon Alley as she stormed through the mid-afternoon crowd of window-shopping housewitches. A path cleared in front of her, although that was probably more because of the murderous look on her face than by any magical cause. All her focus was on reaching the safety of her flat, and that meant getting to the public floo access beside Flourish and Blotts. Until then, Pansy was determined that she would not break down, she would not scream, and she would not cry.

Rounding the final corner at a brisk clip, she fumbled in her robes for a sickle. It irritated her to have to pay for a floo, but there had been no way that she could have floo'd home from work - that would have let everyone know that she was running home to cry. Instead, she'd held her head high, announced that it was time for her to take lunch (ignoring the fact that she had eaten a salad at her desk, the same as she did every day, not half an hour before) and swept out of the office. No one had bothered to ask when she'd be back, but her pride refused to let her look like she was crawling away in misery.

Barking out her flat's address, Pansy stepped into the magical flames. Three swirls and she was stepping out onto hearth, robes dusty and hair askew. Public floos were always such a mess, she thought, as she stripped off her office robes and began her 'arriving at home' rituals as though it were any other day. It wasn't until she found herself standing in the kitchen trying to remember what she'd intended to make for dinner that the wrongness of the situation hit her.

It wasn't dinner time. It was two in the afternoon and she'd just had a screaming fight with her boss and had probably lost her job. She'd certainly lost her boyfriend, since Marcus wasn't likely to take well what she'd said in his office. Most men would be a little insulted by being called two-faced, manipulative scum. They generally got pretty offended when being accused of sexual blackmail - although what else would you would call the man who decided on promotions hinting that dating him would help with said promotions? And they definitely didn't like being told that all the promotions in the world weren't worth having to put up with a fetish for pigtails and Quidditch gear.

Pansy sat down at the kitchen table and buried her face in her hands. The worst part of the situation, in her opinion, wasn't even the fact that he was using her. She had been using him, too. She'd just thought that they had a mutual understanding and a certain respect for each other. Instead, he'd just been after some kinky sex and had promoted a fellow amateur Quidditch player to the job that Pansy wanted. The job she'd been qualified for, definitely more qualified than the bloke from Flint's pub-league team. And the man hadn't even had the decency to give her the head's up; no, he'd let her carry on thinking - hell, planning - that she'd get the job. Just so she'd put on the pads and hair ties and let him call her weird names.

Men were evil. That was all she could come up with at the moment. It wasn't like she didn't know any better, of course. She'd been betrayed, manipulated, conned, whatever you wanted to call it, by some of the best in the business. There was Penrice Parkinson, who had used Pansy like a bargaining chip from the day she was born. Then Draco Malfoy, her promised one, had thrown her over twice: first for the Dark Lord and then for Astoria Greengrass. Blaise, Michael, Zacharias, and now Marcus. They'd all been sweet, loving, and wonderful, but then it turned out they were using her for her name, her mind, her connections, her body or whatever it was that they particularly needed at the time.

And Pansy, well, she fell for it every time. She stood up from the kitchen table and made her way into the bedroom. There, she stripped off her clothes and stared at herself in the mirror on the wardrobe door. She wasn't tall, but not short. She wasn't particularly fat, but she wasn't thin. Her tummy pooched out a little and maybe her hips were wider than she liked, but she curved in and out in all the right places. Her face, well, she was no judge, but she thought she'd grown into it since leaving school. It wasn't going to stop traffic, but it wasn't going to stop clocks either. Twelve years had added some lines around her eyes and mouth, but her eyes were still a clear blue and her hair hung in heavy dark curtains to frame her features. She had to admit that while the picture wasn't unpleasant, she could see why it didn't inspire passionate devotion.

Reaching past the mirror, she grabbed a tunic and leggings. If she wasn't going to be seeing Marcus anymore, there was no need to wear anything fancy at home for the odd time that he might drop in. She considered the possibility that she might leave the flat, but dismissed it immediately. Her social life usually consisted of time spent with her boyfriend and his mates. She occasionally went out for a hen night with girls from the office, but there was no way she was going to want to see them right now. And the only other option was to go home… not a chance. Even if her mum would be supportive, the thought of presenting her latest failure to her father was enough to make Pansy hide under the bed clothes for a month.

No, there was nothing for it but to floo the curry place round the corner, uncork a bottle of Odgen's and spend the evening with the one person she could rely on - herself.

 

There was a giant with a hammer living under Pansy's bed. Actually, he might have moved into her pillow. It was hard to tell, because she couldn't open her eyes without being attacked by vicious creatures of light, some kind of evil cousin to the fairies that Mum used in the topiary at holidays. And there was a used sock being stored in her mouth. Pansy opened her mouth and waggled her tongue experimentally. No sock, which meant no evil fairies, no giants, and, most likely, no Firewhiskey left in the bottle from last night. Oops.

With her eyes still closed, Pansy patted the bed until she located her wand. Three quick spells closed the drapes, dulled the headache and filled the water glass by her bed. A few more minutes took her to the bathroom, where she dug out Marcus' vial of hang-over potion and dosed herself thoroughly. The biliously yellow liquid tasted strangely of ginger and mint with a hint of sour bitterness that made Pansy avoid reading the ingredients label; however, it worked a treat. Within ten minutes, she had showered and brushed her teeth and felt immeasurably more alert.

The problem was that she didn't know what to do next. It wasn't a work day, so she didn't have to go to the office. She didn't have to go watch her boyfriend's bloody useless Quidditch team embarrass themselves. She didn't have to present herself at Parkinson Hall for lunch. Any given morning those were her options, so now she didn't know what to do with herself. The more Pansy thought about the situation, the more she began to realize that aside from being unappealing, that list of her usual habits' was kind of pathetic. She had been following the same patterns for years, just changing out the boyfriend, the job, or the outfit she wore to visit her parents. And it clearly wasn't working for her.

Pansy knew she wasn't a stupid witch. She hadn't taken many NEWTs, just Charms, Arithmancy and History of Magic, but her OWL grades had been uniformly excellent or outstanding. Her naturally organized but non-linear mind that had caught the attention of Professor Flitwick. He had recommended that she take a clerical position with a charms company run by a favourite student of his. The work had evolved into running the clerical department, which then turned into a position managing the entire administrative side of the business. Soon Pansy had found herself being recruited by a larger firm in a mid-level position with the promise of promotion.

Of course, Marcus had broken that promise, but that didn't mean that Pansy didn't deserve that promotion. A quiet voice, suspiciously like Professor Snape's, slyly pointed out that if she couldn't get her promotion at Be Spell'd, then maybe she could get it somewhere else. Loyalty, like trust, is earned, the voice continued, and until then, you have to do what is best for you. Pansy smiled at the memory of Professor Snape's 'life lesson lectures,' where he tried to instill some morals into his wayward charges. It had clearly been a lost cause in some cases, but in retrospect Pansy was aware that her head of house was trying to save them from repeating his mistakes.

With that thought in mind, she dressed quickly and floo'd to the library in Diagon Alley. In the periodicals section, she began combing through the recent potions and charms journals from across Great Britain. Two hours later she had a stack of magazines opened to their Employment sections and was copying the details of over a dozen positions onto a long parchment. Once she had them down, she decided she was going to treat herself to a decadent lunch and then spend the afternoon owling out her resume. She was getting out of London, out of the predictable rut that her life had become. She was going to leave it all behind and find a way to be happy on her own terms.

* * *

 

"All right, Seamus?" Jane's head popped around the doorframe.

"Sure, hen," he answered. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's the beginning of the end." Jane wandered into the lab and hopped up to sit on the work bench. Seamus had to move quickly to prevent a container of doxy eggs from spilling. "The new boss arrives today to make us efficient, economical and possibly unemployed."

"Don't be daft, Janey." Seamus waved off the dire predictions. "There's no danger of that. We're the best department in the whole place. Practicallyruns itself, everyone says. Nothing needs changing, so let's just keep calm…

"…and carry on." Jane sing-songed the rest of the Explosives and Corrosives Department's unofficial motto. She glared down at him from under her blond fringe.

"So if this section is so easy to run, why didn't you apply for the job? You practically ran the place for Stebbins anyway."

Seamus grinned and stood. "Well, easy. I didn't want the headache of being officially responsible for an irredeemable bunch of lazy tossers like you lot." He poked Jane's leg with a stirring spoon and then took her hand to help her off the counter. "Now get off to work. Got to look like busy bees for the new boss's first day. See you in the canteen at lunch?"

"Of course. You have to give us all the Hogwarts-days' gossip on the new boss-lady, remember?"

Seamus groaned theatrically and waved Jane away. When the door closed behind her, he dropped into his chair with a sigh. After he'd accidentally let slip that he'd been in the same year at Hogwarts as the new department manager, his workmates had insisted he tell them all about her. They didn't understand his reluctance to look back at that time in his life.

Most of the people in the department were several years younger than Seamus, and they hadn't gone through the Umbridge period. The few who'd been around for the Carrows had been too young to see the worst of it and had been sent away before the carnage and horror of the Last Battle. Their time at Hogwarts had been the Harmony and Reconciliation period, when house rivalries had been toned down and unity between all magical peoples and beings had been taught at every turn.

Seamus had skipped all that. He'd come back to Ireland after the Last Battle and had never set foot on the grounds of Hogwarts again. Armed with recommendations from Professors Flitwick and Slughorn, he'd applied for an apprenticeship at the County Cork Charmerie and completed his NEWTs through a special equivalency program the Ministry had established for the survivors of the war. His affinity for explosive potions and charms had caught the attention of several companies and, after string of mid-level jobs, Seamus had landed a position as lead developer at the Sithean an Banrigh site of Ireland's biggest charms and potions firm, Draiocht Inc.

He shook his head to clear it of thoughts of the past and moved back to the potion he'd been working on. If all went well, it was going to be a liquid explosive that could be dispensed drop by drop and then be spell-triggered from a safe distance. Of course, in Seamus' experience, nothing went well the first fifty or so tries, so he started his daily ritual of donning protective spells and clothing. Jane's question about why he hadn't applied for the supervisor job floated through his head and Seamus smiled. Why would he choose to sit behind a desk all day, shuffling papers and playing politics, when he could be at a work bench blowing up crucibles and melting cauldrons?

If surviving the Last Battle, when so many of his friends hadn't, had taught Seamus anything it was that life was to be lived to the fullest and every moment should be enjoyed. There was no time to waste being unhappy or unkind or playing games with other people's heads and hearts. Seamus had talked with his father about this many times, and Da had given him books about Muggle philosophies called Zen and Daoism that had helped Seamus make sense of the awful things that he had lived through those last few years at Hogwarts.

He had reached a place of equilibrium and peace, and even the appearance of Pansy Parkinson wasn't going to shake Seamus' contentment. She might have been the Bitch Queen of Slytherin back in the day but now, twelve years since the last time he'd seen her, she was just another witch. He certainly wasn't going to tell the rest of the department that Pansy was the one who'd tried to turn Harry Potter over to Voldemort in the Great Hall, or that she'd been an informer for Umbridge and the Carrows in turn. The past was the past and neither Pansy nor Seamus could change what they had done then, so he was determined to greet her with an open mind and take it from there.

* * *

 

Pansy stood in the doorway of her new office, surveying her new domain. It was much nicer than her glorified cubicle at Be Spell'd, with a gorgeous old wooden desk, a couple of comfortable chairs around a side table, and a picture window looking out over the town. The job that went with it was much nicer too, running her own department at Ireland's largest charms and potions firm. She'd spent the morning in meetings with the higher-ups and now it was time to meet her team. Her team! Just the idea of it made her smile.

She'd sent an inter-office memo off to the lead developer, a Mr. Finnigan, asking if he could assemble the team in the largest lab at two and if he could meet her there at half past one to brief her on the group. When she'd seen Finnigan's name, she'd felt a twinge of recognition but couldn't place him in her memories. One of the directors had mentioned that he was also from Hogwarts and was about her age but couldn't tell her which house he'd been from. Pansy had winced internally at that, since her plans for a fresh start had included getting away from people who would remind her of her past. Unfortunately, the Wizarding world was small and apparently even a change of country didn't guarantee escape.

Anyway, it was time to meet this name from the past. She straightened her robes and brushed a hand over her hair, checking that each dark strand was tucked up neatly. Stashing a pre-inked quill and some memo-parchment in her pocket, she walked briskly towards the lab. Draiocht had chosen to keep its most volatile labs on the upper floors of a separate wing, after a particularly bad explosion in a basement lab had caused several floors to collapse. Now, the Explosives and Corrosives team could cause chaos without endangering the rest of the firm.

Turning the corner into the central testing lab, Pansy stopped dead in her tracks. Sitting at the workbench, staring out the window, was someone she could only assume was Finnigan. In fact, she was sure he was. Twelve years had changed him but the sandy hair was still a mess of cowlicks and while his face was definitely that of a grown man, the bright blue eyes were the same ones she remembered glaring defiantly at the Carrows. At least these days he wasn't bruised and dirty, scrawny from repeatedly being denied food, or bloodied from being made 'an example' for some transgression. Pansy felt her stomach clench. This man had good reason to hate her and he was going to be her second in command. For a cowardly moment, she thought that it might be better to go crawling back to Marcus than deal with this.

Just as that thought crossed her mind, Finnigan turned and spotted her. He stood up and crossed the lab, a smile lighting up his face. It looked like a genuine smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling, and he stretched out a hand. Pansy stepped into the room to meet his handshake, trying to keep her face smooth and pleasant. His hand, as it grasped hers, was warm and surprisingly slim. She glanced down for a moment at the long, calloused fingers wrapped around hers and couldn't help comparing them to Marcus' clumsy paws. Finnigan's hands dealt with delicate potions ingredients and while they were work-reddened, they were gentle. Pansy suddenly realized that she was staring at their joined hands and pulled back as politely as she could.

"Mr. Finnigan," she began, her voice sounding high to her ears.

"Seamus, please," he interrupted. "We're a first-names only kind of place, except for the old fogeys. And you and I are too young for that title."

"Seamus," Pansy acknowledged, trying but failing to imitate the Irish pronunciation. "Thank you for meeting me early. I know you've a big project on, but from what Mr. Stebbins told me, you're well ahead of schedule."

"Not a worry. I've moved about enough to know that first days can be rough, so I'm happy to help. What did you want to be starting with?"

Pansy was thrown by his easy agreement. She'd expected some sort of animosity, even if only because she was the new boss, but there was nothing. Either Seamus didn't remember her at all, which was unlikely given what she'd done at Hogwarts, or he was pretending that he didn't. Either way, it made her uneasy. But now was not the time to figure it out, she decided. There was work to do, and the new Pansy was a professional woman who was past playing men's games.

"Right, well, let's start with a run-down of the team. I need to know who is who, what their strengths are, and where they could use a little help. Any insight you can give me will be greatly appreciated."

"Good stuff," Seamus answered easily, leading her to the workbench at the end of the lab. "Let's set you up here so you can see everyone when they come in. Shall we go alphabetically?"

Pansy nodded, her head still whirling in confusion since she couldn't figure out what he was playing at. She'd have to keep an extra-close eye on Seamus Finnigan.

* * *

 

Three weeks later, Pansy wasn't any closer to figuring out Finnigan's game. He'd given no hint to her that he remembered her past actions. He'd been nothing but pleasant and helpful. Really, really helpful, in fact. Without him, Pansy would have had a terrible time sorting out the running of the department. Stebbins, the last manager, had left abysmal records, when he'd bothered to write anything down at all. If she hadn't confessed her misery to Jane late into their department pub night at the end of her first week, Pansy would have still been trying to claw her way out of the mess.

_"… and when I do find something related to ordering and restocking, it inevitably turns out to be three years out of date and…" Pansy had dropped her head into her hands._

_Jane had smiled sympathetically and pushed Pansy's drink closer. "Don't bother with Stebbins' stuff," she'd said. "Seamus practically ran the place the last few years, after the old man rattled his brains loose in that basement explosion."_

_"Finnigan?" Pansy had groaned. "I have to go to Finnigan?"_

_"Yeah, to be sure," Jane had said, looking confused. "Seamus knows what's what. And he's great, always ready to help and all. You must remember that from school, yeah?"_

_Pansy had shaken her head and helped herself to a healthy dose of Firewhiskey. "We weren't in the same house. I didn't really know him. Didn't he tell you?" she had asked nervously._

_"Nah, not him," Jane had fiddled with her glass. "He doesn't talk about the past much. We asked him and asked him about you and all he'd say was what you said. Did you two have some grand secret inter-house romance that you'll never speak of again and that's why you won't talk about each other?"_

_Pansy had stared wide-eyed at Jane, making the girl laugh. Unfortunately, the combination of Jane's far-fetched notions and three and a half Firewhiskeys had set off Pansy's imagination: Finnigan's long, gentle fingers, his bright blue eyes crinkled in a smile, the way her name sounded in his Irish accent. She had changed the subject immediately._

Pansy took Jane's advice and asked Finnigan for help sorting out the running of the department. He had been indispensable in getting her settled in, not just at work but in general. With his guidance, she'd found a flat within a week. It had been bliss to move out of the hotel Draiocht had arranged and unpack her trunks. He'd put her onto the best shops, the best cafes, and the best pub, which happened to be his local.

She was becoming very familiar with the Quill and Quod, as she had been absorbed into the social circle of the Explosives and Corrosives division. Jane had confessed that Finnigan had encouraged them to invite Pansy out that first Friday evening, but after that she'd become part of the usual crowd. Jane had introduced her to a gang of potions makers who'd immediately adopted Pansy as their older sister. Pansy had been a little miffed by that description until Fiona explained that they saw Pansy as "that cool older sister who gets into all the trouble and who you really, really want to be like when you are brave enough to do all that wild stuff."

Pansy wasn't entirely sure that was a compliment, or remotely accurate. She hadn't done anything wild since arriving in Ireland, and she had never thought of herself as being particularly cool. Still, it was flattering to have a crowd of witches and wizards, most of them in their mid-twenties, who were interested in spending time with her. She'd tried to explain it to the gang one night after a wild game of Whiskey-Darts.

"Back in Slytherin, back then, it wasn't about having friends. It was about having connections. And so I was supposed to spend time with the right people, not the fun people." The two former Hufflepuffs exchanged a glance and looked at Pansy with something approaching pity in their eyes. "Don't get me wrong, we were all in on the game… most of us thrived on it, that's why we were sorted there in the first place. But it's a bit different than just going down to the pub to chat and play darts with no agenda in mind."

"Oh, I have an agenda in mind." Patrick waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Fiona smacked his shoulder. "You don't have an agenda, you have a dirty mind and a wandering eye, yeah? Lecher."

Pansy laughed at Patrick's mock-offended expression. "He's a twenty-five year old wizard. Aren't they all like that?"

"To be sure," Jane agreed. "Which is why I wouldn't go near a fella my age for a sack of Galleons. Give me someone older and more steady, like Seamus."

"Oh, Seamus," sighed Siobhan, with a melodramatic swoon. "Janey's been half in love with Seamus for years and he's never even noticed."

"I have not!" Jane said fiercely. "Seamus is like my big brother. He's the best friend a girl could have, because he never puts on the moves or gives you that look that you do, Patrick."

Patrick put up his hands defensively. "Is it my fault all the girls I work with are so gorgeous? A man would have to be blind, or gay, not to look." He paused for a moment. "Think Seamus is gay?"

A chorus of no's dissolved into laughter.

"He is most definitely not gay," Cillian said from his seat beside Pansy. The redheaded wizard was around Pansy's age and a manager at Draiocht. Pansy had been relieved to find out that he had grown up in Canada and knew nothing of her past. Her second pub night he had announced that he was adopting Pansy because she was the only witch at the table whose outfit showed the slightest sense of fashion, and they had been fast friends ever since.

"Just because he doesn't flirt with you doesn't mean he's not gay," Jane pointed out.

"Sure, hen, but he's never flirted with any guy that I've seen, and he notices girls, even if he doesn't drool as much as Patrick does."

"But he never has a girlfriend," Siobhan argued. "At least, he's never brought one out."

"That's because he doesn't date, exactly," Patrick explained. "Haven't you noticed? He's like Rodogan the Romantic, enchanting witch after witch but never for more than a few weeks."

Pansy snorted. "In Slytherin, we called a guy who went through girls like handkerchiefs a man-whore, not romantic."

"But he's not like that. I've watched him in action. He never promises more than a good time, no strings, no lies or games." Patrick was clearly defensive of his idol. "If a girl wants more, he won't even start anything. He's all about not leading them on."

Pansy smiled to herself as the rest of the table continued to debate Finnigan's love-life. It had been two and a half months since she'd broken it off with Marcus and while she had sworn off relationship games, she hadn't turned off her body's needs. Of course, she had never slept with anyone outside of a committed relationship. All this talk of dating, or whatever it was Finnigan did, was reminding her that there were some needs that even good friends didn't fill.

"… there is nothing wrong with sex for sex's sake." Fiona's voice interrupted Pansy's thoughts.

"But it can be so much more when you're in a proper relationship," Cillian argued.

In Pansy's experience, sex had always been about something else. It was one of her strongest bargaining chips for getting her way with men. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy herself in bed, but her focus was usually on taking care of her partner. Perhaps Fiona and Patrick had a good idea there, that the physical connection between two people could be as uncomplicated as a mutual good time. Not that Pansy wanted to rush out and sleep with every man in the pub, but…

"That's Sean." Cillian's voice was quiet in Pansy's ear. "He's easy on the eyes, isn't he?"

Pansy could feel herself blushing and she looked away from the handsome dark-haired man standing with Finnigan by the taps.

"He's a local favourite," Cillian continued, his voice pitched low. "Straight as an arrow, unfortunately, but a proper gentleman."

"That's nice," Pansy replied vaguely. "So where's your fella at?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"My boyo is on loan to the manufacturing department up in Galway. He'll be back at the end of May, although he might fly down weekend after next if they can spare him." Cillian paused, then grinned wickedly. "But we were talking about Sean. You haven't mentioned pining for anyone back in London, so I'm assuming that you'd be interested in trying out the local talent. From what I hear, Sean's talented."

Pansy's face felt like it was on fire. She sputtered a bit in denial, but finally caved under Cillian's gaze. "Fine. He's pretty. But I'm not interested in dating right now. I've just got out of the latest in a series of disastrous relationships and I need to figure out my life before I end up part of someone else's."

Fiona leaned in. "Ah, finally we get to hear about your past. So, you have terrible taste in men?" she asked, eyes wide. "Me, too."

Everyone at the table laughed.

"She does," Patrick affirmed. "Those guys made me look like Casimir the Charming. They made goblins look gracious. They made trolls look refined. They made…"

"I get the idea," Pansy interrupted, laughing. "I can't say that I ever dated anyone that awful. I just seemed to pick guys who were interested in what I could do for them, not in me."

"That's stupid," Patrick said bluntly. "You're great. If I weren't terrified of you, I'd ask you out."

"If I weren't your boss, you mean."

"No, that's not the problem. There's plenty of intra-office dating at Draiocht. It's that you're ten times classier, prettier, and cooler than I could handle."

Pansy smiled at the flattery and looked down at her drink to hide the tears that were pricking at the corners of her eyes. It was one thing to be friendly with her employees, it was another to be friends with them. These people had welcomed her in to their lives so easily that it amazed her. They seemed to like her on her own merits, nothing more complicated than that, and Pansy was charmed by their open acceptance of her as a co-worker and friend.

"Now look what you've done," Jane chastised Patrick. "You've made her uncomfortable. Learn to think before you blurt out every idea in your head. Raised by wolves, you were."

"No, no," Pansy stepped in before Patrick could respond. "I'm very flattered. I'm just not used to people saying nice things like that out of nowhere, y'know, without some reason behind it."

"Oh, that's not fair." Siobhan's voice was sympathetic. "Does no one in your world say nice things just because they're true?"

"It's not that bad, really," Pansy had to admit. "But after a while you start looking for the hidden meaning in every compliment."

"Blech!" was Fiona's response. "That's a crappy way to live."

"What's a crappy way to live?" Finnigan's voice came from behind Pansy.

"Pansy's been telling us about life in Slytherin, where every nice word is actually code for 'gimme something I want'. Sounds horrible," Fiona explained.

"It does," Finnigan agreed, dropping into the chair next to Jane. "Which is why it's so good that Hogwarts is the past and we're living in the now. Shove over, you lot," he added, gesturing to Pansy and Cillian. "Let Sean have a sit."

As they shuffled down the bench seat, Cillian poked Pansy in the shoulder and eyed Sean suggestively. She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. He retaliated by tickling her side and she went for his stomach. When they emerged from their giggly tickle war, the whole table was staring at them.

"What?" Cillian demanded. "Just because we're the oldest here doesn't make us the most mature."

"Truer words," Finnigan drawled, "but as managers, we expect you to lead by example. Right now…"

"Get stuffed," Cillian retorted and turned to face the man standing beside Pansy. "Sean, have you met Pansy Parkinson? She's just started at Draiocht this month. She has the thankless task of managing this lot."

"I haven't had the pleasure." Sean's voice was deep, and Pansy felt it rumble through to her core. "Miss Parkinson, I'm so sorry to hear that you have to put up with this bunch day after day. Perhaps I can buy you a drink as a consolation?"

Pansy smiled up into dark brown eyes and felt Cillian's fingers pushing her shoulder. "That would be lovely. And please, call me Pansy." She put her hand into his outstretched hand and let him lead her towards the bar.

* * *

 

Seamus watched in amusement as Sean worked his famous magic on Parkinson. She was practically glowing under the wizard's attention. Sean was a charming bloke, and Parkinson probably needed a little uncomplicated flirtation. He'd watched how she'd reacted to the open acceptance offered by her new friends and had been amazed. It was as if she'd never been given unreserved affection before in her life, and it made Seamus feel sorry for her.

The first few weeks of working with Parkinson had been odd. She had approached him gingerly, as though she was dealing with a rabid Hippogriff. It wasn't until he'd seen her interacting with the team socially that he'd realized that she was only uncomfortable around him. Seamus hadn't needed much reflection to realize why she acted that way, since Parkinson was clearly still trapped by her past. Seamus was sorry to realize that she hadn't moved on in the past dozen years, and he hoped that the new world of Sithean an Banrigh and Draiocht would help her realize that the past should stay with the ghosts, not the living.

At the bar, Sean ran a hand down Parkinson's arm and she leaned towards him. Seamus forced himself to look away.

"Looks like she's found a friend," Cillian said from across the table, nodding towards the bar.

"Sean's a friendly guy," Seamus acknowledged.

"From what she's been saying, I think she could use a friend like that for the moment," Cillian continued. "Someone who makes her feel good about herself, rather than someone who uses her to make him feel good about himself."

Seamus felt a burst of anger at the idea of some wizard using Parkinson that way. Of course, he reasoned to himself, it was because no one should use another person that way. Unfortunately, he could still picture the vulnerability on Parkinson's face from the first time he'd seen her at Draiocht. He'd known then that she'd been afraid of what he might say about their past and she'd assumed that he would use that to hurt her in some way.

"She's got nothing to worry about here," Seamus finally responded. "Sean would never hurt her. He knows I'd curse him senseless, for one thing."

"I'm sure you would." Cillian was smiling. "From the way you were looking at them, I'd say you're a little more protective of our Pansy than you usually are. Which is funny, considering she has years on most of our girls."

"Does she really, though?" Seamus asked, before he could stop himself.

The redhead looked over at the bar, where Pansy was laughing at something Sean had said. "Maybe not. She's got the years, but in a lot of ways, when it comes to dealing with people, she's the youngest one here. From the hints she's dropped I'd say she's never been treated like an adult by anyone she's ever cared for."

"Poor lass." Seamus shook his head.

"Stuff that!" Cillian said fiercely "No pity from you, Seamus. Pansy was brave enough to leave all that behind and start a new life where she knew no one and had nothing. Don't you go treating her like a charity case."

"I wouldn't!"

"You would. You might not want to admit it, but you love taking in broken birdies and fixing them. Look at Janey. Or Patrick. They don't realize how much you've turned them into real functioning grown-ups, when they used to be the most awkward, irritating brats.

"But you can't play around with Pansy, Seamus. She's been a pawn in too many games, tricked by too many people who mattered to her. Be honest with her - that's what will make her happiest."

 

Seamus had given Cillian's words a lot of thought over the weekend and realized that as much as he didn't want to talk about the past, he probably should clear the air with Pansy. Monday afternoon, after putting in several unproductive hours on his latest project, he decided to stop procrastinating and made his way to Pansy's office.

"Could you spare a moment?" he asked, when she looked up from her desk.

"Of course. Come in." Pansy stood up and walked around the desk. Seamus couldn't help noticing the glow in her cheeks and her smile: it was the first time she'd ever smiled at his arrival.

"Would you like a cuppa?" she asked, sitting in one of the comfortable chairs beside her desk. Seamus shook his head as he sank into the other chair.

"I'm fine, thanks. Look, Pansy…" he stopped, unsure how to start the conversation.

"Yes?" she asked, glancing up from her tea preparations. The look on his face must have been something, because her glow disappeared and her eyes narrowed. Seamus felt terrible for making her worry.

"Um… Okay…" Seamus was at a loss. "Alright. Pansy, we've never talked about Hogwarts."

Pansy froze. Seamus felt his chest tighten as he watched the colour drain from her face. Abruptly, Pansy stood up and crossed to the window.

"I should have known this was coming," she said in a low, angry voice as she stood with her back to Seamus. "What do you want?"

Seamus could only stare at her for a moment.

"Want?" he asked, when he recovered from his surprise. "I don't want anything. Well, no, that's not exactly true."

Pansy laughed roughly, and then turned to face him. "Of course. I knew there was something going on with you - pretending that there was no history between us, that you didn't know exactly what I did back then. So what's the price for your silence? Because if you think I'm going to let you ruin my life here, you're sadly mistaken. I am happy here. Happy. And I don't care what you want, I will do whatever I have to so that I don't lose that."

Seamus felt like the worst kind of bastard. Pansy's colour had returned, as burning crimson streaks on her cheekbones. She was breathing hard and her voice was rough. Worst of all, tears had spilled onto her cheeks but she hadn't made any move to wipe them away. He wanted to comfort her, to wrap his arms around her and rock her, but something told him that if he tried, she would hit him.

"Please, Pansy," he said, trying to choose the right words. "That's not why I'm here. I just came here to tell you that I have no intention of ever talking about the past, your past, our past, with anyone. That's all."

"Really?" Pansy's voice dripped with venom. "And why should I believe that? How do I know that this isn't some trick?"

"Pansy, you know me. What you see is what you get, no games, no tricks. I just wish you would relax around me. Please believe me," he pleaded.

Pansy sighed, but her body didn't relax at all. Seamus watched anxiously as she took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped away her tears.

"I don't know if I believe you," she said finally. "But I'm willing to try. You just have to give me time. I'm not used to trusting men, you see," she said with a sad smile that made Seamus' breath catch.

"Well, not all men are as evolved as the wizards of Sithean an Banrigh," he joked lightly. Pansy huffed a laugh and Seamus smiled. "Pansy, I'm quite serious about this. What happened back then cannot be undone, and yes, we were on different sides, but I've made my peace and I don't have any need to bring the past into our present. I want you to know that I never talk about that time with anyone who wasn't there. You have nothing to worry about."

"I never talk about that time at all," Pansy confessed. She walked back to where Seamus was sitting and picked up her tea. "So much time spent trying to keep the right people happy, and in the end it was all for nothing. Everyone either died or turned coward and ran. I tried to do what they wanted me to do but no matter what, I got it wrong. Even as queen of my little universe, I was so miserable."

* * *

 

After Seamus left her office, Pansy sat sipping her tea. The brew was bitter, but she didn't mind. The relief she felt was making her giddy. Somehow, the conversation she had been dreading since her first day hadn't turned out to be a disaster at all. It might have started badly, but after she had broken down and confessed how miserable she had been back then, the mood had shifted.

Seamus had been sympathetic without being smothering. He'd let her talk herself out but said very little. In the end, he had repeated his promise of silence and offered to listen any time she needed. Pansy had wondered for a moment if she could believe his promise, but she was starting to think that Seamus was a man she could trust.

* * *

 

"Where does this go?"

Seamus gestured with the wineglass he was holding when Pansy glanced over her shoulder.

"Cupboard to your left, beside the sink there," she gestured with her elbow. She was wrist deep in soapy water, trying to save a saucepan from the caramel sauce she'd drizzled over the desert.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take care of that? Mam taught me some serious scouring charms." Seamus rested his chin on her shoulder to look at the disaster in the sink. The sauce had been very successful with her dinner guests, but it didn't appear to want to separate from the pan. "Although from the looks of that…"

Pansy cut him off with an elbow to the stomach.

"I can take care of it myself," she declared, sticking her chin high in the air. Seamus laughed and flicked his dishtowel at her.

"Good party, Miss P," he said, returning to the wine glasses. "I'm surprised you managed to fit all of us in here."

Pansy smirked. "Your mother taught you cleaning charms, mine taught me how to entertain. I just tweaked the room a little bit. And the table, somewhat. And the windows."

"I figured," Seamus said dryly. "Last time I checked, we were a few hundred kilometers from the seaside. Impressive spellwork."

"I'm more than just a pretty paper-pusher," Pansy said, throwing Seamus a smile over her shoulder. He found himself grinning back at her, charmed by how comfortable she was in her skin these days. It had been two months since he had broken the silence about their shared past. He felt that that day had been a major turning point for Pansy. She had relaxed around him and embraced her life in Sithean an Banrigh with enthusiasm.

"I've wanted to have a dinner party ever since I moved in," Pansy continued. "I've been a hostess before, but it was always for my boyfriends for work things and the like. This is my first dinner party that was just about my friends having dinner together."

"And it worked out well. You're an excellent entertainer." Seamus put away the last of the glasses and closed the cupboard. He crossed to the sink and took Pansy by the shoulders. "Now move and let the expert cleaner take care of this." He steered her across the kitchen and pressed her down into a chair.

"Fine," she huffed. "Be bossy."

"Not bossy, help-ful," Seamus said, drawing the words out in as patronizing a manner as he could. He felt something bounce off his back and heard a thunk as it hit the floor, but he refused to turn around to see what she'd thrown.

After a few minutes of charmwork, Seamus placed the gleaming pan in the dish rack with a flourish.

Pansy applauded sarcastically. "Want to come live with me and be my house elf?" she asked.

"Will you buy me an extra-nice tea towel to wear?" he shot back.

Pansy's eyes widened and Seamus watched a blush climb up her cheeks. She sprang up from her chair and started towards the dining room.

"I wanted to thank you again," she began as she moved. Seamus had to follow quickly to catch her words. "For keeping quiet about the past. I really appreciate it." She picked up her abandoned wineglass and took a healthy sip.

"It's no big thing, Pansy."

"It is to me. I had been worried ever since I arrived - just a little bit, but all the time. And once I knew that I could safely leave that part of my life behind me… It's been such a relief. I've been free to live how I want to."

Seamus nodded his approval. "That's the best thing to do, absolutely. Learn from the past, sure, but leave it be and move on, yeah?"

"Yeah." Pansy smiled into her wineglass. "Move on. And now I've been able to start fresh. Be happy. Thank you for that."

"Are you happy, Miss P?" Seamus couldn't help but ask.

"I am," she admitted. "I really am. I've got a good job, a great flat, and fantastic friends. So many friends I had to charm my dining room to fit them all, in fact!" Pansy's smile lit up her face and Seamus could only grin back at her.

Pansy moved around the room, undoing the charms she had placed on her furniture. Seamus leaned against the doorframe and watched as she padded from place to place, unselfconscious and graceful in a blue slip-dress. With Pansy's final charm, the view from the windows changed from a starlit ocean to streetlights and shops. The shadows on her face shifted as she leaned close to the glass. Seamus saw a small smile curve her lips and felt his chest constrict.

Her obvious contentment gave him more pleasure than it probably should. He had become very fond of Pansy over the past few months, but he was noticing that his feelings of friendship were becoming complicated by attraction. He found himself creating reasons to be near her, to touch her as often as he could. Pansy didn't seem to mind when he did, which gave Seamus hope that the spark he felt wasn't entirely one-sided.

Pansy turned away from the window and crossed the room towards him. Seamus instinctively opened his arms and she snuggled against him.

"I'm sending you home now," she mumbled against his collar. "Need my beauty rest."

"Hardly necessary," Seamus said quietly, disengaging from her and making his way to the front door. "But you've got to be exhausted. I'll see you for brunch tomorrow?"

"Of course," Pansy said, standing on tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek. She waved as she shut the door behind him.

Seamus stood in the hallway for a moment, still feeling the warmth of her lips on his skin. As much as he fancied her, he knew that Pansy's happiness was more important to him. If that meant just being friends, he could cope with that. But it wasn't going to stop him from wanting more.

* * *

 

"Ta-da!" Pansy spun around with a smug look on her face. "Drink, all you un-coordinated tossers!"

Moans and groans rose from the crowd beside the dartboard, but they obediently tossed back shots of Firewhiskey.

"Merlin's beard, Pansy," Jane cursed, when she stopped gasping from the burn of the alcohol. "How'd you get so good at whiskey-darts?"

"A Slytherin never reveals her secrets," Pansy replied archly as she squeezed back into her seat in the booth.

Seamus bumped against her shoulder. "But we don't keep secrets here," he reminded her.

"Not even for an air of mystery?" she smiled up into his bright blue eyes.

"Please," he drawled. "Everyone here is so sozzled they won't even remember tomorrow what you tell them tonight."

"True," Pansy admitted.

"And since that's all your fault…" he continued, grinning wickedly.

"No," she countered, "it's their fault, for underestimating my skills."

Seamus laughed and slung an arm around Pansy. He pulled her snug against him and she found herself leaning her head against his shoulder.

She'd discovered that her Irish friends were very snuggly people: hugs, pats on the shoulder, hand-holding, full-on cuddling in the bar. Cillian was the worst culprit, but Pansy had found that as soon as she got within arm's length of Seamus, he reached out for her. Not that she had a problem with it. He was comfortable, warm, and smelled nice. And his touch sparked something deep inside her that Pansy didn't want to examine to closely.

"Shove over, youse." Cillian shouted, pushing Pansy's shoulder. She had to move quickly to avoid ending up with a lap full of drunken friend and ended up plastered against Seamus, who was wedged into the corner of the booth. Barely aware of the commotion he'd caused, Cillian grabbed Pansy's arm and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Give us a cuddle. I miss Johnny." Pansy laughed, but she shifted to embrace him.

"The three of you are so cute!" Fiona was practically cooing. "Like those poly-piggy-whatsits."

"Polygamists?" Pansy asked. "I don't think so. That's when you're married. And since I'm not Cillian's type, Cillian's not Seamus's type…"

"But we both love you, Panse." Cillian was slurring slightly.

"But you don't lurve her," Jane said, with a melodramatic gesture.

"No, I'm just a boyfriend substitute," Pansy said with a mock sigh.

"Well, if the three of you spent any more time with each other, you might as well be married. Or at least get one flat, rather than three," Patrick pointed out.

"Pah," Cillian said. "I'd never live with these two. All they do is bicker-flirt. Maybe if they shagged, they'd settle down."

Pansy felt her face burn. She could feel Seamus shaking with silent laughter beside her and felt a little insulted. Did he really think the idea of the two of them hooking up was so silly?

"Oops, I think I just stepped in it." Cillian gave Pansy a look of apology. "Blame Pansy's skill at Firewhiskey-darts. Take no notice of anything I said."

"As if we ever do," Seamus said, laughter in his voice. "Which makes us even more like married people, I suppose."

Everyone at the table laughed, and the awkward moment passed. Patrick began sharing his opinions of marriage and polygamy, setting off a raucous debate with Jane and Fiona. Pansy sat back to watch, relaxing into the embraces of her two best friends. She was incredibly blessed, she realized. It had been eight months since she moved to Ireland and it was clear that it had been the best choice she'd ever made. The two men on either side of her were proof of that. They were her closest, dearest friends, men she could trust without reservation.

As Patrick wound up his impassioned defense of a man's right to have as many girlfriends as possible, Seamus leaned down to whisper in Pansy's ear.

"I've got to head out. Think you can shift that drunken loon so I can escape?"

Pansy shivered at the feel of his breath on her neck. She nodded, unwilling to trust her voice, and gave Cillian a shake.

"C'mon, you," she said when he turned to her. "Our husband has to get home. Up you get."

Cillian made a few rude remarks about Seamus' staying power, but he eventually stood to let them slide out of the booth. Seamus bestowed hugs all around and left.

"He's off alone again," Jane observed.

"Yup," Patrick said. "Haven't seen him with a bird in weeks. I've been wondering about that."

"Well, he's a good husband," Cillian said archly. "He wouldn't cheat on me and Panse."

Everyone laughed and the girls returned to insulting Patrick.

"Well, he wouldn't cheat on you, Pansy," Cillian said in a low voice.

Pansy jumped a little in her seat. "What do you mean?" she asked. "We're not dating. How would he cheat on me?"

"Are you sure you're not dating?" Cillian retorted. "You spend a lot of time together. And I haven't seen you with Sean or any other bloke in a while."

"Sean was just a fling. That was over months ago."

"I know that. But I don't see anyone taking his place." Cillian raised his eyebrows. "And I do see you spending two, three nights a week with Seamus. Not to mention pretty much every lunch hour."

"We're friends, Cill. I spend half those lunches and evenings with you, too," Pansy said defensively.

"Yeah, but I'm gay. I'm not attracted to you; you're not attracted to me. You and Seamus, on the other hand…" he trailed off suggestively.

"Seamus isn't attracted to me."

"Yes, he is." Cillian stated bluntly, "And I notice you didn't say 'I'm not attracted to Seamus.'"

Pansy blushed and didn't respond. She did find Seamus attractive; she had for some time now. His messy hair and sparkling eyes charmed her as much as his dry wit and gentle spirit. She had always liked his hands, but of late she'd found herself staring at those long fingers and wondering how they would feel on her skin. But he was her best friend, and that was more important to her than any attraction could be. She tried explaining the problem to Cillian, but he waved her concerns away.

"Look, Pansy, Johnny is one of my best friends. It's what makes our relationship work, because we like each other so much along with the romantic feelings. You've got a chance at that with Seamus. I think that it would make you happy. Don't you think it's worth the risk?"

Pansy just smiled at Cillian, but she kept turning his words over in her head, wondering if he was right.

* * *

 

Seamus stretched his legs out along the length of Pansy's couch. He'd managed to set up the Muggle entertainment system that she had purchased on a whim and was feeling quite proud of himself. He'd only had to owl his father twice.

Pansy was standing in front of her new television, re-reading the plot summaries on the movies she'd purchased. Much to Seamus' delight, she'd stayed away from the romantic comedies and picked out a collection of action and science fiction films. She also seemed fascinated by anime movies, he noted as she slid Princess Mononoke into the DVD player.

Two and a half hours later, Seamus was still on the couch, but now Pansy was curled up under his arm. Her head was tucked against her shoulder, and her arm was across his chest, fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. Seamus stroked her arm idly, trying to pay attention to the closing scene of the movie. It wasn't easy, when every part of him was incredibly aware of Pansy.

When the movie's credits rolled across the screen, Seamus turned off the television with the remote control. Pansy shifted to sit up, but he kept his arm firm around her shoulder.

"It's like a Muggle version of a wand," she observed, gesturing at the controller.

"Sort of," he agreed. "So, do you like your new toys?"

"Oh, yes," Pansy said. She snuggled closer to him with a sigh. Seamus moved his hand to play with the tips of her hair. "Mmm…"

Pansy's small purr shot straight through him. Seamus shifted uncomfortably.

"Happy?" he asked

"Very much," she said again. "Actually, I really am. I came here to find a way to be happy on my own terms, and…"

"And?" Seamus rubbed a knuckle across her cheek.

"And it worked." Pansy tipped her head back and smiled up at Seamus. His breath caught at the beauty of her face. He'd never noticed before how brightly her eyes sparkled, or how sexy her lips could be.

"I'm finally in a place where I can be myself," Pansy continued, oblivious to Seamus' stillness. "With friends who accept and like me, people I like and trust. It's as if I walked out of a dark forest into a sunny field."

"Leaving the monsters behind."

"Exactly. Leaving the past in the past, like you said." Pansy reached her hand up to Seamus' and gave his fingers a squeeze. "Thank you for showing me that there are people I can trust."

Warmth spread through Seamus at Pansy's touch.

"Any time, Miss P," he said lightly, twining his fingers through hers.

"I'm serious, Seamus. Thank you so much for being my friend."

Pansy leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

Without thinking, Seamus brought his free hand up and caught her chin. Turning his head slightly, he placed a gentle kiss on her lips. He felt her go still against him, and then her fingers tightened their grip on his. Seamus smiled against her lips as he moved his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, pulling her closer for a deeper kiss.

 

Pansy turned in Seamus' arms, sliding her hand free to tangle it in his blond curls. His lips nipped at hers, and she smiled at how much Seamus' kisses were just like him: teasing, fun, and irresistible.

She felt his hand move from her hair to press against her back, urging her closer. She was considering how to shift to straddle his lap, but before she could move Seamus pulled back from the kiss.

"Pansy…" he began, breathless. She covered his lips with her fingers.

"Don't apologize." Seamus looked chagrined and Pansy smiled to know she'd read his mind.

"I want this," she explained. "Kissing you. Being with you."

Seamus lifted her hand away from his face. "I don't want to mess with our friendship," he said. "And I don't just want something casual."

Pansy felt herself flush under his intense gaze. His declaration had her heart beating faster, and she couldn't keep the smile from her lips.

"I don't want to hurt our friendship either," she said. "But I want to take this risk with you. I trust you. I think this will make me happy."

"I want to make you happy," he said with a smile that made Pansy's heartbeat stutter.

"And will it make you happy?" she asked.

"I'm sure it will," he said, waggling his eyebrows salaciously. Pansy punched him in the shoulder.

"No, seriously." Seamus smiled down at her. "I think that we could be good together. I'm willing to take the risk."

Pansy felt a glow of pleasure rise inside her until she wondered how she wasn't setting the drapes on fire.

"Well then, let's give it a try, this being together. Starting with…" Pansy pulled her sweater over her head and watched as Seamus' eyes widened.

She had a feeling that taking this risk was going to make her very happy, indeed.

* * *

_Sigh no more, no more_  
One foot in sea, one on shore  
My heart was never pure  
You know me

_Love; it will not betray you_  
Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free  
Be more like the man you were made to be

_There is a design, an alignment to cry_  
Of my heart to see,  
The beauty of love as it was made to be

Sigh No More  
\- Mumford and Sons


End file.
